Resonance
by Controlled Fall
Summary: Post season 3. The battle is over, but the journey is just beginning. Jim struggles to adapt to the recent changes in his life. Claire seems a bit peculiar as of late. And Toby? Toby is just here for the ride.
1. Chapter 1

**So first few notes. This takes place after season 3 so, you know, read with caution. Second note, leaving the very night after the battle seemed a bit rushed to me so I'm starting at the end of the battle and gonna give them a day or maybe two to at least pack some things. Third, I'm bringing Toby and AAARRRGGHH! along for the ride and I'll be calling him Arrrgh from now on. Oh and forth, Jim is going to learn to take the armor off, cause his being stuck in it is making me incredibly claustrophobic.**

Happiness and adrenaline still coursed through Jim as the team rejoiced and tried to catch their breath. Happiness with a bitter sweet coding that he felt himself pushing down. Later. Later. He'll deal with it later. Now was not the time. There was still so much to do, so much to discuss. And then there was the Heartstone hidden somewhere in New Jersey. They had a journey ahead of them.

He was still lost in these swirling thoughts, gazing out at the cloudy, but thankfully sunstreaked, horizon when he felt a warm and small (too small) hand slip into his. He glance downward to see Claire's reassuring presence at his side. He started to smile, wavering a bit as he noticed the odd feeling of his lips rolling over large teeth. She squeezed his hand tighter and he was relieved to feel his hand reform slightly under the pressure, even if only by a bit. It seemed that his stoniness was only skin-deep. Even so, did not reciprocate the squeeze, keeping his hand curled loosely around hers. He had spent less than 48 hours in this new form. He didn't know its full potential or its limits and he wasn't gonna risk his girlfriend's delicate, small, very human hand.

She seemed to notice his lack of grip. "I'm not gonna break you know," she said, a wry smile crossing her face as she pivoted to face him. Her brows furrowed as she gazed up towards his face. "Your bleeding," she said, raising herself on her toes and reaching a hand out to caress his left cheek. He blinked a bit in surprise, his eyes trying, and failing, to focus on his cheek. Claire giggled as he went cross-eyed.

A nervous laugh bubbled to the surface of Jim's throat, "Well, at least that's something human I still seem to be able to do." He brought a hand to the spot. It didn't seem too deep. "Now let's just hope I can heal as well."

"Of course it will heal," a voice shouted behind them, breaking the illusion that they were alone on the bridge. Merlin grabbed Jim's chin roughly, not at all with the softness that Clair had a moment before. Jim felt his upper lip curl at the sudden unexpected contact. "Although it will heal faster if you just hold still aaaaaaand..." The wizard raised his staff with his free hand, its green stone becoming luminous. Lighting-like tendrils stretched towards Jim's face, collecting closer in the damaged areas.

"There." Merlin lowered his staff, releasing Jim so suddenly that he fell back a few paces. "Good as new." His brows furrowed, "Or is it 'Good as old' since it was the old version of you before the battle that didn't possess a scratch. Or...hmm..." His eyebrows twitched. The others stared. "Well, in any case it is healed, now if you would kindly lead us to our lodgings Trollhunter, I would enjoy a much deserved rest." He stretched his neck, this way, then that, the bones giving out a few pops as he did. Claire took hold of Jim's hand again. Without anyone saying a word he started leading them towards his home.

What used to be his home.

* * *

Jim's house was becoming something of a meeting place after the battle. His living room was currently full to the bursting with the presence of his friends, trolls and humans alike, and their parents (or nanas). Everyone was excitedly recounting their own versions of the battle to each other. Jim, wanting to withdraw a bit, excused himself to the kitchen and started making hors d'oeuvres. He took comfort in the familiarity of it, letting his muscle memory take over as he began chopping and sauteing. He tried to let himself be absorbed in the simple task, something he could handle, and to think of nothing else.

Jim placed the dishes on the coffee table to the excited and hungry exclamations of the others. He sat down on the couch, the springs protesting as he fell hard (much to hard) into the cushions. His hands clasped and unclasped themselves over each other. One three fingered and the other four. He looked away, trying to feel pride as the others started eating the food he had prepared. He couldn't partake in it himself. He had tried a bit while in the kitchen, but everything still tasted wrong. More than wrong. Wrong was when the seasoning wasn't just right or the food overcooked. It didn't just taste wrong, it tasted inedible, like trying to eat old socks, which was ironic really because now that he thought about it...Jim gave himself a mental shake. He wasn't going to eat socks. He wasn't even hungry right now. Sure, that may have to do a few missing utensils in the kitchen, but it was still true. He cringed inwardly as he remembered taken a bite out of his favorite cutting knives. Now that had been edible. The metal sweet and tangy, the wooden handle smokey and crunchy.

But he didn't want to think about that. There was no time to think about that. He leaned into the couch listening, wanting to just lose himself in the overlapping chatter of the room. Wanting to let it condense into a white noise.

Except it didn't. He felt his ears twitch.

Suddenly, he was zeroed in on Toby's conversation with his Grandma on the other side of the room. "And then it turned out the whole time that it _was_ the butler." Her face twisted into a smug smile and she glanced meaningfully at Dicatious. "It wasn't just a red herring afterall."

 _Titch_

"And then I said, 'Stop in the name of the City Council!' and hit him right over the head with the sign of my opponent!"

 _Titch_

"The hospital was still a mess when I left, but since I came in so early and worked the worst of it they decided to let me go home."

 _Titch_

His ears were pulled in this direction and then that. One by one bringing each conversation into unnerving clarity. With so much stimulation in the room they seemed to have gone on autopilot, unable to find a focus. The effect was chaotic and disorienting. And it was all so very loud. Jim gripped them roughly in his hands and pulled down. His heartbeat picked up. He had to get out of here.

Jim rose quickly, making his way to the side of the room. The conversations continued. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Claire glance his way, but pretended not to see as he mounted the stairs and took the familiar path to his room.

He fell down on his chair with a clang of armor hitting wood. Burying his head in his hands for a moment, he gave a deep sigh and tried to recollect himself. holding his head like this was a quirk he had always had, and performing it now felt both familiar and alien. His hands whch used to run through his hair now found horns. Gripping them tightly, he sighed again. It was quieter up here. He could still hear the voices below, but they were less pronounced. He leaned back in the chair, his armor readjusting itself.

"I don't know how you expect an old man to get any sleep with all that clanging and clattering around."

The voice broke Jim out of his revery like a smack to the face. He jumped backward off of the chair, landing in a crotch on the desk. Teeth bared, he felt a growl escape his throat, odd and rumbling. His ears pulled towards the left. He followed the direction with his head to see the source of the noise. Merlin was laying like a plank on Jim's bed. He was positioned in much the way the team had originally found him just a few days before. Only difference was he had one eye open and one eyebrow cocked towards Jim in annoyance.

Jim's heartbeat slowed and he tried to readjust his body into a more human position, swinging his legs forward so they dangled off the desk. He scowled toward the wizard.

"If I'm banging and clattering around that is on you! I can't seem to get this darn amulet off," Jim tried once more to pry it from his chest. He threw his arms up, exacerbated. " Its like its melded on!"

"Well of course it is! That stone is serving as your troll heart! It is now a part of you. We can't have you separated from that now can we." The wizard closed his eyes again as if what he said settled everything. Jim felt a wave of hopelessness as he looked down at his armor, shifting uncomfortably.

Merlin's one eye flew open again, "And there you go again with the clattering, and the banging, and the...clinging..."

Frustration washed over Jim. He swallowed the beginnings of a growl in his throat. When he spoke his voice was controlled, but still a bit rough around the edges.

"I told you! I can't take the armor off!"

This time both of Merlin's eyes opened. With an agility that seemed uncharacteristic for a man his age he spun himself into a sitting position, facing Jim.

"That's not what you said."

"What? Yes it is!" Jim sputtered.

"You said you couldn't take the amulet off, which is true, but that doesn't mean you cannot remove your armor. The fight is over," the wizard's face shifted thoughtfully, "or at least it is for today. Take the armor off."

Jim took a steadying breath. Inwardly praying for patience. "But how can I take the armor off without-"

"Can I ask you something Trollhunter?" Merlin interrupted, a long finger pointing towards Jim, "How do you summon your armor?"

"You mean when it's not melded to me?" Jim frowned. "Well usually, I say, 'For the glory of Mer- you know, daylight-'"

"And have you used those words every time you summoned your armor?"

Jim thought back, back to what seemed like forever ago, when he didn't have full control over his armor and it had appeared, just because he had felt threatened, and that led to the play, and Claire, and, and…

"Well no, there were times when it would just appear."

"And did you always remove the amulet from you chest to remove your armor."

Jim's face twisted in concentration. "Well, no, but that was mainly times when I had my butt was kicked and the armor just, well, disappeared."

"Exactly!"

"Exactly?"

"Jim the armor forms when called upon. It is formed through a state of mind and a well of energy. The state of mind comes from you, and the energy resides within the amulet. The incantation and act of putting the amulet on or taking it off only assist in finding that balance more easily."

Jim felt his attention perk and he straightened up on the end of his desk. He would love to get the armor off. He'd been dying to get out of it and stretch his aching muscles.

"So, I just have to severe this- ummmmm- this 'state of mind and force of energy?'"

"Well of energy."

"Whatever."

Merlin's tone became conjoling. "Forces remain constant while wells can contain, holding and withholding. Just put the energy back in the well where it belongs." He yawned, "It will be there when you need it."

"We're talking figuratively, right?"

Merlin's eyebrows raised. Jim was beginning to believe this man's eyebrows had a life of their own. "Well of course I'm speaking figuratively. Do you see any wells around here?" He gestured his arms out to the surrounding room and fell back on the bed muttering something about kids not understanding magic these days. Jim watched on as Merlin shut his eyes. It seemed that was as good of an explanation as Jim was going to get from him.

Jim hopped off of the desk, rolling his shoulders back one by one. _Okay, no armor, armor be gone!_ His face screwed tightly in concentration.

"Your too tense." Merlin said from the bed. He hadn't even bothered to open his eyes this time. In fact, he was now fixing a lacey purple cover over them that Jim had a suspicion belonged to his mother. "You need to be fully relax." Merlin said, shifting deeper into the bed as if to fully punctuate this statement.

Jim took a breath and shook out his hands while jumping on the balls of his feet. He was trying to shake out the tension as he would after a hard training session. He felt his body wanting to fall into a resting crouch, but wouldn't let it. Instead, he continued bouncing, trying to get his body to relax while retaining a completely human position.

"You need to let both sides of yourself relax" Merlin said, talking to the ceiling.

Jim sighed and after bouncing on his toes once more let his body sink into the (strange? natural?) crouch it seemed to want to be in.

And his armor finally let go, dissipating like smoke. It was a relief, such a relief, and his limbs fell deeper into the crouch. His new joints for the first time able to bend as far as they wanted without the armor digging in. He let out a moan of relief that sounded both human and animal. He arched his back and stretched.

 _skkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkrt_

He yelled, (yelped?) at the sudden unexpected noise. And at the feeling of something (weird, hairy, fluffy) on his back. Looking down he could see his old sweater, the same one he had been wearing just a fortnight ago. It was strained along his arms and a large rip seemed to have formed almost entirely down his back. His arms wrapped around himself questioningly. He could feel a large amount of hair (fur?) overflowing from the rip.

Heavy, rushed footsteps came to the doorway. "Jim are you alright! I was just coming up the stairs to check on you when I heard you -um- shout and-"

Jim looked up at Claire, his arms still tangled as if giving himself the tightest hug. Claire's stared wide eyed in surprise. She took in the room, her eyes roaming over Jim, his clothes hanging on to him in tatters, and then over to the wizard lying on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, grumbling. Her face seemed confused for a moment, but quickly recomposed itself. As she turned back to Jim a smile crossed her face. She stifled a giggle.

Jim jumped to his feet. Part of him wanted to flee, to jump out the window as he had done before, but he forced himself to stand. Rushing over to his dresser, he started shuffling through the contents and grabbing items at random.

"Ah, Yes- Well as you can see I ummmmm- I seemed to have taken my armor off-" Jim scooped up a huge pile of clothes in his arms. "But ummmmm I may need to change and since there is currently a wizard in my room..." He gave a meaningful look towards Merlin, who lay there oblivious, and made his way clumsily toward the door. Side-stepping Claire, he slipped out into the hallway. "I'll just be heading that way," He finished awkwardly, giving an uneasy smile toward Claire and gesturing down the hall with one blue thumb. He rushed to the escape of the bathroom and slammed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the follows, favs, and comments! To be honest it's been a few years since I've written anything more extensive than a cover letter, and I wasn't sure if anyone would want to read my brain explosions. So far I'm having fun though. It's nice to brush off the old skills and put them to work.**

"Whew!" Jim breathed a sigh of relief. Arms still overflowing with clothes, he turned his back to the door and leaned against it.

"Uhhhhhh."

Or tried to lean against it. Jim's fall had been interrupted midway, leaving his head and shoulders hanging awkwardly in the air. His eyes flitted backward, but he couldn't turn his neck. The struggle caused an odd sense of pressure on his skull. Oh! The horns! Their points had found purchase in the soft wood. Muttering darkly, Jim tried to pry himself gently off the door. Nope. Still stuck. He pulled harder and-

Jim lurched forward, clothes flying out of his arms and showering the floor and tub. Rolling his eyes he collected the fly-aways and threw them in a pile with the others. Satisfied, he grabbed the end of his sweater and attempted to lift it over his head. Ssskkkkkkkkkkt. The tear that had already formed in the back split further and the remains sprung forward in two pieces. Man! Jim thought, This is my favorite sweater! I mean I wear it practically everyday I- Jim paused. This sweater would not been of much use to him in his current form, even if he hadn't just turned it to rags. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that his poor sweater had not deserved such a grim fate.

A faint red glow from below broke Jim out of these thoughts. His eyes were drawn towards it. The amulet. It was still there, seemingly fused to his chest. He tapped a black nail against the glass. Weird. He could almost feel the vibration. He bent his head, trying to get a better look and, without thinking, spun to face the mirror.

Jim hadn't fully realized until that moment that he had been avoiding looking anywhere near the mirror. Now frozen to the spot, he found himself staring at a creature wearing a surprised and quizzical expression that he recognized, but a face he did not. He took step forward. The reflection followed suit, its eyes wary. This was Jim's first unobscured view of himself since before the transformation. Previous glimpses, within the marred toaster, the rippling water, the dark window, had not done it justice. Jim blinked a few times, twisting his head this way and that. So did the being in the mirror, its eyes boring into Jim's. The thick eyebrows rose and knitted together. The corners of dark lips twitched and twisted. Large bottom canines stuck out, canines that Jim could feel resting on his own upper lip. A hand flew to the spot. It traced the curve of the nose, familiar, but broader than before, and brushed along the span of the horns, rough and striated. Staring at this new creature was confusing. There was so much in the image Jim recognized, but also so much that seemed completely out of place. The full effect was unnerving.

Jim ran his fingers through his hair. It was very soft, almost fur-like. He had always had trouble in the past with his hair being a bit lank. Now, he appeared to have the opposite problem. It fanned out every which way from his face like a mane, continued patchily down his neck, and reformed on his back with a vengeance. Twisting around to get a better look, he could see the dark mass cover his shoulders and form a triangle ending midway down his spine.

The amulet! He had meant to look at the amulet. He turned back around. His chest was bear and blue, looking more like the sculpted suggestion of a human form than anything organic, and there, right over where his heart should be, the amulet glowed softly. He may have been imagining it, but its light almost seemed to fluctuate with a steady pulse.

Well, back to the task at hand. Jim didn't give his jeans the same delicate treatment that he had tried to bestow upon his sweater. They were already hanging in tassles below the knee in any case. He gave a bit of a tug and off they came.

Kneeling over the tub Jim shoveled through the clothes he had gathered, mumbling to himself. "Boot-cut, boot-cut, skinny jeans….uhhh...boot-cut. Why couldn't I have been into cargo pants, or-ummm some 60's style flares?" He really hoped something in here was going to be useful or he was going to have to leave this bathroom in his mother's pink bathrobe. His hands passed over something baggy and soft. Sweatpants. Hmmmm. That might work. He gently pulled them on. They were a bit short, but they would do. Excellent. He was half-clothed. Making progress.

He started searching through the clothes again. No, no. That wouldn't work. Everything seemed so small now. He doubted he could get most of these items over his horns, let alone the rest of him.

The sound of footsteps, without thinking he gave the air a few sniffs. He was no bloodhound like Arrrrgh, but his sense of smell did seem to have enhanced since his change. So far his nose had mainly guided him to items it saw fit to eat. Now it seemed to be telling him something else. He gave another sniff, it was a nice smell. Memories flooded his head, stage lights, a nervous laugh, the sun shining off dark hair...Claire.

There was a knock. "Jim? Are you okay?" Claire's voice sounded like it was forcing itself to be casual. "It's been kinda a while..."

Jim looked down at himself. He still had no shirt. He racked his brains and paced the room. Damn it! There was a reason why his wardrobe was mainly filled with sweaters! He was shy! He liked the way you could sink into a turtleneck or hide behind a hoodie.

"Jim?" Claire's voice was rising, sounding tense. He swore the air grew heavier and it filled him with unease.

Sniff. No, it wasn't the air. It was Claire. Her scent had changed. His nose wrinkled, it had grown sharper around the edges, sickly sweet and— wait was he smelling her fear? Was that something he could do?

More importantly, why was she afraid?

"JIM!"

He flung the door open.

Claire stood there dumbfounded for a second, fist raised as if to pound on the door again. Her eyes looked red and she blinked them furiously. She looked away. He felt nervous. Had he done something wrong? Oh no. Was it him? Did she not want to look at him? Was it that bad?

Claire spoke towards the floor, "You-you weren't answering me! I couldn't hear you at all!"

"I was changing," he mumbled dumbly.

She met his eyes for a moment and then looked away" I - I - You were in there for a while and-" she took a step back and hastily rubbed a fist across one eye, "-the last time you were in there…"

Jim felt his stomach plummet. Oh. Oooooooh. He was such an idiot.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered.

She looked so small, standing their gazing at her feet. "Heyyyy. Heyyyyyyyyy." Jim chided softly. Gently, he put his hands on her shoulders. "Claire, everything's fine. I'm-I'm not going anywhere." He bent his knees a bit, trying to meet her gaze.

"You already disappeared before."

He blinked, confused, furiously racking his brains.

"Killahead!" he shouted excitedly, as if finding the answer to a particularly difficult question in class. She gave him a furtive look and he lowered his voice back down. "Your referring to what happened at Killahead Bridge, right?" He shuffled his feet.

"I thought that now things would be different now that we are all trollhunters. I thought that you trusted us." Her voice grew hoarser, "That you trusted me."

"I do."

"But-"

"Claire, you gotta believe me. If there was anyone I would have opened that door for it was you. I-" He swallowed, "Before I took the potion- when I heard your voice on the side of the door. I almost did." Her eyes flew up to his, "But then- then I heard what you said about Morgana being back and I-I had to do it. I didn't open that door because I knew—I knew that if I saw you, I would never have the strength to turn away."

Claire rose on her toes and wrapped him in a hug. They hung there, silent for a moment.

"Just promise me that from now on, whatever we do, we do it together."

"Promise."

"Hey, ummm, your backs kinda fluffy, haha" She rubbed her hands playfully through the hair.

"Awwww, not the scruff!" he said removing her hands from his neck and smoothing the area out.

She laughed and he felt as if he just caught a glimpse of sunshine on a cloudy day.

* * *

They headed down the hall together.

"People were starting to dwindle out when I came to check on you. I'm not sure who's left." She yawned. Jim followed suite. He wasn't sure how much sleep trolls needed. More often than not they seemed to use it more as a time-passing method, something to do during daylight hours. Jim wasn't fully troll though, he was a hybrid and (now that he thought about it) couldn't remember sleeping at all in the past 48 hours.

As they approached the stairs, Jim came to a sudden realization.

"Wait! I—ummmm—I'm still not wearing a shirt!" His hands flew to cover himself. Claire smirked.

"It's fine Jim. Come on. I'm sure no one will care. Blinky doesn't wear a shirt. Arrrrgh doesn't wear a shirt. Draal—" She stopped. "Anyways, it's no big deal."

Jim still had his arms wrapped around himself. "They are all trolls...I'm...half-troll."

"Do you have half a shirt?"

"No...well…"

"Then come on." She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the stairs.

"There you are!" Claire's mother stalked towards them, her father following behind. "What were you doing up there?" Her eyes flicked to Jim for a moment, disapprovingly, then back to her daughter.

"I was just fetching Jim."

"Well now that he has been fetched you can say goodbye. It's late and-" she stretched. "-and I've had an awfully long day." Jim glaced around Mrs. Nuñez towards the rest of the room. Blinky, Nana, and Dictatious were gone. Arrrrrgh was curled up in the middle of the room on a rug that was much too small for him, sound asleep. Toby was snoring on Arrrrgh's back, snuggled in the copious amount of green fur. On the couch his mother and Stickler had fallen asleep, leaning against each other. Jim wrinkled his nose and looked away, back to Mrs. Nuñez.

"Mama, I was actually thinking, I should stay here tonight. You know, to help out." Claire's voice was a forced nonchalant.

"Help out?" Mrs. Nunez waved her arm to the room at large. "Everyone is gone or asleep."

"And if you think we are just going to let you sleep at your boyfriend's house, you have another thing coming, missy!" Claire's father interrupted, pointing an accusatory finger.

"But, Papa!"

"No, buts!" Mrs. Nunez scolded, then her voice softened. "Come on Claire, It's been a full day. You can come back and help your friends out tomorrow."

"No."

Claire hadn't raised her voice, but something in it had changed, become stonier. Both of her parents attention snapped to her face.

"I will not be coming home. I am needed here. You are glad that I am staying here to help. You will go home. Now. I will see you tomorrow."

Jim eyes flicked nervously between Claire and her parents. He prepared himself for a backlash of the worst kind.

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Nunez said, her voice oddly fuzzy, like she had just woken from a long sleep. She blinked rapidly a few times and cleared her throat. When she spoke again she sounded more like her normal self.

"Of course. We are glad you are staying to help. Aren't we, Honey?"

Claire's father blinked and gave his head a bit of a shake. "Ah, yes, very happy. We will," he pivoted towards the door, "be going home. Now. See you tomorrow, Sweety."

Jim stared, mouth agape as they closed the door behind them.

"Claire? Is it just me or were they acting really weir—"

He noticed Claire sway on her feet and reached his arms out to steadied her.

"You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah I'm fine." Claire sniffled a little and wiped the back of one hand across her nose. She smiled.

"Looks like all of the trollhunters are staying here tonight"

"Yeah...I guess so" Jim observed the living room that was now full of the sound of light (and in Arrrgh's case, not so light) snoring. Jim yawned. He would love a bit a oblivion right about now.

Jim crossed the room to where his mom was sprawled on the couch, her back against Strickler's shoulder. Jim removed her glasses and gently placed them on the table, all the while fighting the urge to give Stickler a good punch in the gut. His feelings towards his mentor, turned enemy, turned mentor again were tremulous at best.

He slunk back quietly. "Why don't you take my mom's bed. The wizard is in mine and I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

They began climbing the stairs.

"I'll grab a sleeping bag from my room and meet you there in a moment."

"I'm sure there is room on the bed. Why don't you just-"

"Claire, please, its fine." Claire's lips formed a tight line, but she seemed to decide against arguing. "Anyways, I survived today, it would be a shame to die tomorrow all because your father found out we slept in the same bed." Claire laughed and punched him on the arm lightly.

Jim snuck through his room and over to the closet as quietly as he could. Merlin was snoring loudly from the bed, muttering in his sleep. Jim hardly noticed the lack of light. Sure, colors were still muted, but he was able to pick out outlines and forms with almost the same ease as he would in a brightly lit room. He discovered the sleeping bag tucked away in a corner. As he reached down for it one of his horns became caught in the rod. He stifled a shout as he desentrangled himself, glancing toward the bed. The wizard wheezed a snore and muttered something about 'too many toad snouts.' Jim sighed, he was going to have to try to make a conscious effort to give his head more maneuvering room in the future. Grabbing the sleeping bag, he made his way out into the hall.

The sleeping bag was an old one he used to use for sleepovers with Toby. He wasn't sure if he would have fit in it even in his human form, but he only planned to lay on top of it anyways. He rejoined Claire in his mother's room. She sat on the bed and kicked off her shoes. They flung out at random. She then scrambled back,still fully clothed, and buried herself in the covers.

Jim opened the window to let a breeze in. He then unfurled the sleeping bag next to the bed and tried to get comfortable. He tossed one way and then the other. There was a portion of fur on his back that was sticking up and it was driving him crazy. He twisted his arms this way and that trying and failing to reach it. He gave a grumble of frustration that vibrated just a bit too much to be completely human. Suddenly, he felt a gentle hand on his back, smoothing the fur back into position. He looked over his shoulder to see Claire, a sleepy smile on her face. Her arm was hanging off the bed.

"Turn back around," she said her eyes blinking sleepily.

He did. Relaxing on his side. Her fingers lazily comb through his fur, straightening it out. Even once it is all going in one direction she continued, softly pressing her hand against his back. In the quiet of the room he could hear the soft beating of her heart.

Part of him wanted to protest, he didn't know that much about dating, but he was pretty sure it wasn't normal for your girlfriend to pet you like a kitten. However, with the repetitive motion a blankness had started to take hold of his mind, a blissful numbness that he welcomed. His body started to relax in a way that it hadn't since...well in a way that this body had never actually relaxed before. Claire's hand trailed and fell limp as Jim felt himself slip into the void of sleep.

* * *

Jim mind was far away. He felt like a part of him was grasping for purchase, trying to come out of the abyss, while another wanted to hang onto the dark oblivion. He could sense light on the outside of his eyelids, and that was bad. He should just sleep until the brightness went away, but there was something he had to do. There were many things he needed to do, weren't there? He couldn't waste daylight—Sun bad—He had to get up and—stay here, safe—because there was so much to do. He tried to shake the fog from his mind. Some half-remembered dreams hung clinging on his thoughts. He had been climbing trees...and before the trees was a battle...and before the battle-

-Wait-

The potion, the forest, the school, the battle, the house, the tree.

Tree?

Jim came fully awake with a jolt. Rolling sideways he suddenly found himself falling through the air. He gave out a shout of surprise. His body reacted automatically and he twisted midfall. While he did not land gracefully, he did seem to be more or less on his feet. Well, feet and hands anyway. He had fallen in a crouch under the tree in his yard.

What on earth?

He looked up into the the dense branches of the tree he had apparently been sleeping in just moments before. His face scrunched up as he tried to focus, going through his memories of the night before and some blurrier fragments he had thought were dreams.

"Jim!" His mom and Stickler had opened the sliding glass back door. They looked like they had just been awoken. More likely than not it was from the loud crash in the backyard. Or the screaming. Either or.

Jim straightened himself up and rubbing the back of his neck. He assumed what he hoped was a nonchalant smile. Racking his brains for an explanation he began to take a step forward. Then another.

"JIM!" and this shout wasn't like the first. It was blood curdling scream. He looked up to see Claire in the upper window, her face positively distorted in panic.

It was then that he realized his mistake. He had been about to step out of the tree's shade, right into the streaming sunlight. He tried to jump backward, but it was at that very moment that his foot became caught on a root. He was falling forward, with no control. He was about to hit the sunlight and-

Jim fell on his face and hands, eyes squeezed shut in fear. He heard a gasp from his mother and Stricklander.

But there was no pain. He opened his eyes. He was still covered in shadow. He glanced up at his mom who had her hands over her mouth. Sticklander wasn't looking at him, but upward. Jim followed his gaze back up to Claire. Her arms here stretched out the window at odd angles, stiff and reaching. They were shaking fiercely. Her eyes were filled with a milky opal white.

"Jim," She said, and her voice, although her own, was reverberated in a way the doubled and tripled the sound. The shaking continued, spreading outward from her arms and towards the rest of her body. "Take two steps back" Her voice was forceful, almost angry sounding.

Jim obeyed. Scrambling back under the tree on all fours and turning to the face the window again. Claire's arms began to relax, the shaking subsiding. The shadow where Jim had been lying a second before shrunk back, rejoining the tree's. Jim looked up again just in time to see Claire's now normal eyes roll back into her head. She tottered, then crumpled out of sight. He had to hold himself back to prevent himself from jumping straight into the sunlight again. Sticklander, though he couldn't see Claire fully from under the window, seemed to have interpreted the crash and made his way up the stairs. His mother's eyes fell on him.

"I'll get the umbrella," she said.

 **What's up with Claire? How did Jim end up in the tree? Will Merlin ever return Mrs. Lake's eye mask? Find out next time! Hahaha. Anyways, there is a bit of Jlair in here, but don't expect this fic to get too romantic. Partly because I don't enjoy writing or reading romance very much and partly because it is much more fun to have the characters fumble around like the awkward teenagers they are.**


	3. Chapter 3

Barbara, having found an umbrella, ushered Jim inside under its shade. By the time they made it over the threshold, Stricklander was descending the stairs, Claire in tow.

"What's going on?" Toby muttered sleepily, rubbing his eyes and sliding off Arrrgh's back. "Did I hear screaming, or-," he yawned, "-or was that a dream?" He blinked his eyes slowly and, noticing Stricklander positioning Claire's limp form on the couch, jumped.

"What's happened? Is Claire alright? Jim?"

But Jim did not answer. He rushed up to the couch, nearly upending the coffee table in his hurry. Kneeling on the floor next to Clair, he took her head in his hands. Claire's forehead was dotted with beads of sweat. A few strands of hair clung to her damp cheek. He brushed them away gently, sweeping them behind her ear.

"Claire?"

Claire stared blankly out of half-lidded eyes. Her lips were moving slightly, forming silent words. He tilted his head and focused. He could hear the steady pulse of her heart. It sounded slow, perhaps too slow? He was no doctor.

No sooner did he think this than the pace of her heart picked up, beating faster and faster. Claire's eyelids flew open, the irises clouding over once more with that strange opal glow. Her muttering picked up pace, the whispers becoming harsh and sporadic. It made the hair on the back of Jim's neck stand on end.

 _Click-click-clack-click-clack-clack-click_

Jim's could feel his ears tug backwards, urging him to turn his head and assess the threat.

He stole a glance.

A teacup left on the coffee table from the night before danced in its saucer. Nick-nacks and photos on the end table began to vibrate.

"Claire?" Jim redirected his attention back to her and grabbed her shoulders. "Claire, are you doing that?" He tried to turn her to face him, but her head lolled limply on her neck. Jim swallowed hard. "Claire please…" He gave her a shake, "Claire look at me!"

"Jim!" Toby shuffled his feet nervously, his eyes on the bookcase where some volumes began to teeter terribly close to the ledge. He backed away, positioning himself in the center of the room. "Dude! You've got to let me know what's going on!"

Frustration rushed through Jim. How was _he_ supposed to know what was going on! He turned his head towards Toby, about to tell just that. Instead, he bared his teeth, a growl rippling his throat. Toby fell silent, looking hurt and perhaps a little alarmed. _No time to think about it!_ Jim brushed away the guilt. He didn't have time to answer questions right now! Claire was what was important. Bending back over her he tried looking into her eyes, but those milky orbs seemed to be staring past him, far away. A flood of a frightening syllables continued to stream from her lips. Jim had no idea what was going on. Claire could be dying for all he knew, and he was sitting here useless! His breath quickened. It felt as if a heavy fog was descending on him, making it hard to think.

The clattering continued on all sides. ( _Too much! Too loud!)_ The thud of two heartbeats, beating as if to outrace one another. The smell of sweat and heavier less identifiable smells that filled him with dread. ( _Fight! Hide!_ ) The walls were closing in. He couldn't breath. There wasn't enough room to breath!

A photo in the hall slipped off its hook lwith a crash.

"Honey?"

Jim twisted slightly towards the voice, his lip twisting upward in a snarl. He hunched protectively over Claire.

The voice was soft, but firm. "Honey, please, I need you to move. Let the doctor in."

Jim blinked. Then again. It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. His mother needed him to move. She was going to take care of Claire. She could help. Slowly, painfully, he took one step back, then another. His arms wrapped around himself as if to keep from crumbling into pieces, fingernails digging into his arms hard enough to draw blood had he still been human. He stayed close, watching as his mother re-positioned Claire, sliding her down so that her back was flat against the couch and placing multiple cushions under her legs. Barbara took Claire's wrist and held it, her eyes locating a clock on the wall.

A voice floated in from upstairs.

"You know, I wasn't sure at first what to think of this century, but this thing you call _indoor plooming_ really is quite remarkable." Merlin was making his way down the stairs barefoot, clothed in nothing but a pink bathrobe and a fluffy white towel which was perched at a jaunty angle on his head. When he arrived at the landing he fell silent, his eyes taking in the various items still shaking and falling from their stands, then locating Claire.

Annoyance crossed his face. "Can't get two seconds of peace." He mumbled, making his way over to where his staff had been left leaning beside the door. He grabbed it and leisurely made his way over to Barabara and Claire.

"Ah. Now if you could just," He made a shooing gesture with his hand towards Mrs. Lake. Her face twisted in distaste.

"Are you behind this? I swear I'll— Is that my bathrobe?"

Merlin pretended as if he hadn't heard the second question. "I can assure you that I did not contribute to Miss Claire's current state, but I may be able to assist in the solution. As I am sure you have been able to deduce from the glowing eyes and magically moving items our dear Claire is not suffering from your standard illness."

Barbara glared daggers at Merlin, but took a step back, arms crossed.

Merlin leaned forward. He tapped a finger against the stone of his staff a few times, humming thoughtfully. Nothing happened. He gave it a whack with the base of his hand. Low and steady buzzing emmanted from it. "Ah! There now."

Merlin held the staff over Claire's head. Thin tendrils of pale pink light started to seep out of her eyes, reaching towards staff as if pulled magnetically. As the first threads came into contact with the stone it began to glow fluorescent green. The flow became stronger and Claire's head seemed to be drawn upward with the force of the current.

There was a buzz of electricity as a light bulb overhead flared and popped. The last of the strange energy vanished into the staff and Claire's head fell back onto the couch as if cut from a string. Everything stopped moving all at once and the room was thrown into a deep silence.

Merlin straightened up. Smoothing out a few wrinkles in the bathrobe, he began walking away. Barbara blocked his path.

"What did you just do?"

Merlin furrowed his brows. "She's fine." He waved his hand dismissively as he sidestepped Barbara and entered the kitchen. A few seconds later, there was the sound of cabinets and shelves being riffled through.

Claire groaned. Jim ran to her and took her hands in his.

"Claire?"

"Jim" She croaked. Her eyes looked tired, but they found his and focused.

"How are you feeling?"

"I-" her arms moved as if to push herself into a sitting position, but were shaking from the effort. Jim helped her up and took the seat beside her. She placed a palm on her head.

"Whoa. Easy there. Don't rush anything." Barbara said. "Walter could you-" Stricklander was already behind her, glass of water in hand. "Ah, thanks." She handed it to Claire, taking a seat in the adjacent chair. "Take slow sips."

Claire obeyed. Her breathing seemed to steady and the shaking began to subside.

"Well then," Toby bounced on the balls of his feet and clasped his hands together. "Now that no one is screaming, or glowing, or making everything shake with their super freaky powers...would someone mind telling me...WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE!

Arrrgh gave a nervous laugh and placed a finger over Toby mouth. He pushed it away.

"I mean I wake up, and everything is pure chaos!" he said, gesturing his hands wildly in the air. "And does anyone bother to fill in old Toby. Noooooooo!"

Stricklander reentered the room carrying two cups of tea. He handed one to Barbara and pulled up a chair from the table, turning it to face the others.

"I think young Toby has a point, perhaps it would be best if we were to all get on the same page."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then heavy footsteps could be heard coming up the basement stairs.

"I'm back!" Blinky shouted, flinging the basement door open. "You wouldn't believe the trouble I was having getting everyone settled down before dawn. Don't get me wrong, I am as excited about our victory the next troll, but I'm not sure what triumph there is in our victory if everyone is to be roasted alive the very next day. I mean, really, enough is-" He stopped, unnerved by the stares of the others "Did I...uh...miss something?"

"Ah, Blinkous, This is actually perfect timing. We were about to discuss just that." Stricklander said.

Blinky took a few more steps into the room, searching the faces of the others apprehensively. Arrrrgh sat down. Toby leaned against him. Merlin entered from the kitchen carrying a pack of cookies and took a seat at the table.

"I'll begin," Claire said. She leaned against the armrest of the couch and kneaded her forehead with her fingers "I woke up and was about to go downstairs when I noticed Jim wasn't in his sleeping bag." She furrowed her brows. "Then I thought I heard him shout from outside, so I went to the window and he was there under the tree." Her eyes gave Jim a sidelong glance.

"What were you doing out in the yard Master Jim." Two of Blinky's arms reached out imploring, the other pair resting on his hips.

"I don't know." Jim rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling and unruffling the hair there. "I just sort of woke up in the tree and...fell. That is when I shouted." He stared down at his hands, feeling the eyes of the others bore into him. He wished he could sink into the couch and disappear.

"Jim fall out of tree." Arrrgh rumbled. "Then what?"

"I saw Jim about to walk into the sunlight."

Blinky's hands flew to his mouth, "Jim you know you can't do that! Why-"

"I know!" Jim felt his ears droop, "Old habits die hard, okay? Plus, I wasn't actually going to. I tripped." He could feel the blood rush to his face and hoped that his blush would no longer be visible beneath his new skin.

Claire continued. "Yes, I saw him tripped and I–It's hard to explain–I felt this energy, like the shadow staff, but within myself." She held a hand over her chest. "I, ummmm, redirected it and that allowed me to lengthen the shadow of the tree" Her brows furrowed, " I'm not sure exactly how I did it. I just–reacted. Things are a bit hazy after that." Her eyes grew distant, "I felt like here, but not here, like I was being pulled in several directions at once."

"You shook the WHOLE HOUSE!" Toby shouted.

" _What!_ I don't remember that!"

"No, no. Toby is exaggerating!" Jim glanced nervously between Toby and Claire, "What Tobes meant is that you...well, you sort of kind of...made-most-of-the-things-in-the-house-shake." He finished in a rush.

Claire took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. "This makes no sense."

"Sure it does." Merlin interrupted from his seat at the table. He took a cookie out of the package giving it a curious sniff. "Magical outbursts like the one you had are quite common in young witches and wizards.

Claire frowned at him, "But I'm not-"

"But you are. Some wizards are born, others made." He bit into the cookie and twisted his mouth thoughtfully, "I would place you firmly in the latter category. You can't expect to pour as much of yourself as you did into and artifact like the Skathe-Hrün and remain unchanged."

"Changed how?" Claire sounded apprehensive.

"Wizards are living abnormalities. The bend and flow of dimensions is weak around us. We are able to pull energy from outside dimensions, take the Shadow Dimension for instance, and bend it to our will." He gave a half-shrug, "Well, more or less. It is what some call magic."

Claire looked thoughtful ."So, If I am able to control magic, why did I go all fuzzy afterward"

Merlin gave a sharp laugh, "My dear girl, _control_ is a strong word for what you did." Claire's lips tightened into a thin line. "Not that the feat you described wasn't impressive, but you drew too much energy, more than was needed for the task at hand. Without a staff or wand to siphon of the excess you were left to the whims of the leftovers. It's a common mistake for young magicians make. You'll learn in time."

Claire stared at her hands as if seeing them for the first time, turning them over. "It's strange, I've felt different since opening that large portal in trollmarket, but so much was going on with Morganna afterwards that it was hard to tell where her influence ended and I began." She took a breath, "Even with her gone though, I still find words lurking in my head that I don't understand, or sometimes it feels as if there are flames burning just beneath the surface of my skin." She shrugged, "I feel the same, yet different."

"Yes, speaking of different," Sticklander turned his attention towards Jim, who shifted uncomfortably. "Young Atlas, I still don't fully understand how you ended up in that tree."

"I told you! I just woke up there." Jim tried to hide the defensive edge in his voice.

( _Night air whipping through his hair. The smell of grass and dew)_

"And you have no idea how you got there?"

"I-well, no."

( _He must to get out of here, into the fresh air. He leaps, his hands and feet fall on soft ground.)_

"Jim."

"Okay, okay! I sort of have these vague memories, but I don't even know if they are real!"

( _Dark bark beneath his hands and feet. He must get higher. Higher)_

Jim bends over, holding his head.

( _Dawn will come soon. Must stay here under the leaves. Here safe._ )

He looks up at Strickler. "I- I think I remember jumping out of the window and climbing the tree, but I don't know why. I wasn't really thinking as it was going on." He shrugged, "I assumed it was a dream. You don't question dreams."

Blinky hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are being pushed by instinct Master Jim. It can be quite difficult to be suddenly thrown into a different body. Why, I remember doing the strangest things without fully knowing why when I was human...like bathing."

"But why would Jim's instincts tell him to climb a tree," Claire asked "I've never seen trolls in trees"

"Ah- Well, Yes. It is true that most of the trolls that inhabitant Arcadia and the surrounding area are of the subterranean variety, but there are others. You've already met the Quagawumps, which mainly reside in the swamps of Florida. Then, there are also the sprightly Otziquartz of the high Alps." He gave Jim an appraising look. "I'm afraid though that Jim's unique appearance makes it is hard for me to tell what troll or trolls he may be emulating.

"Ooooooh, ooooh! But trolls are just rocks, right! I know rocks!" Toby ran up excitedly to where Jim was sitting, oblivious to the slightly offended look on Blinky's face. Jim sat dumbfounded as his friend picked up his hand, spreading the fingers apart and squinting closely. " Hmmmmm. You know, this actually looks like part of the triclinic crystal system to me, though the gentle sloping in the striations suggest feldspar. Hmmmm, and I think I sense-" He licked Jim's hand.

"UUUUAAAGH! Toby!" Jim grabbed his hand back, furiously wiping it on his pants.

Toby clicked his tongue thoughtful, "potassium. Quite a bit actually." Toby finished. "Which would suggest that your skin may be amazonite, or something similar."

"There are the Baumicrocline trolls that live in the rainforests of South America. Supposedly, they have whole villages located in the treetops. Perhaps, Jim now shares some characteristics with them. Hmmmmm, Maybe-"

There was a rustling behind Blinky. Merlin had reached for another cookie. He split it, licked out the cream center and carefully placed the chocolate wafers on top of a tall tower he had balanced on the table. He looked up. "What?"

"You!" Blinky said, "You should have the answer. What kind of troll did you turn master Jim into! I demand to know!" He pointed an accusatory blue finger.

"Hmmph!" Merlin carefully added two more wafers to his tower and rose slowly. "First off, Jim is _half-_ troll. Second," He stalked over towards the group, "Second, how should I know what type of troll he takes after."

"You made the potion! You made Jim this way!"

I didn't just _make_ Jim into anything. Do you think, that potion would've worked on anyone? That I could just put together some ingredients and _poof,_ " He flexed his fingers in a mock explosion, "transform anyone into a troll hybrid."

"Yyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeesssssssssss," Toby said.

Merlin's nose was sudden inches from Toby's face. "No, young knight!" He sighed. "Ah the laymen will never understand. Magic can't make the impossible possible. It merely makes the improbable probable."

"But a potion turned Blinky into a human!" Toby argued, "He had skin and everything for a couple weeks!"

"Hmmmph! Sounds like a cheap parlor trick to me, I'm surprised it didn't kill him." He looked Blinky up and down scathingly. "Most transformation spells are fickle and unpredictable, never truly stable on their own. However, when combined with a binding spell they can be quite advantageous. Jim's unique hereditary made him the perfect candidate for this type of transformation. If you really want to know what type of troll he is taking after, you really should ask his father."

 _Crash!_

Barbara had dropped her mug. Its contents spilling out on the floor. She ignored it, fixing Merlin with a steely gaze. Jim felt as if he had been dipped into cold water

"Jim's father?" Barbara stood to face Merlin. "What does this have to do with James." She was glaring at the wizard, but he didn't seem to notice the venom in her stare. He spoke as one does to particularly slow child.

"Well, it has everything to do with Jim's father, what with his being a changeling and all, Jim was the perfect candidate."

Barb looked as if she'd been struck. She slid back into her chair, eyes wide. Jim sat still. Numb.

"Wait! So Jim was always half-troll!" Toby blurted out, disbelieving.

"Yes and no. Biologically speaking, Jim would have appeared human. The magic used to create Impures, however, is quite strong and somewhat residual. A piece of that magic has always lived within Jim, the potion merely served as a way to enhanced the effects of that magic and build from it With the original spell being a binding spell, the magic sought out troll and human traits within the host, that would be our trollhunter," he waved a hand towards Jim, "and essentially bound him to himself. That's what makes Jim here so different from the changelings. His two halves are both part of him, fully dependent on the existence of each other."

Barbara had removed her glasses and was pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Look. This must be some kind of mistake. James was many things," her voice soured, "and not all of them good. But a changeling?" She put her glasses back on and readjusted them, "No. I–I would have known."

Sticklander had previously left for the kitchen and now returned with some towels and a dustbin. He began cleaning the the fragmented remains of Barbara's cup from the floor.

"Oh...Thanks Walter." She said, distracted.

Toby elbowed Aaaaargh, "Someone has a tyyyyyyyyype," He whispered.

One of Jim's ear perked at the remark. He broke from his trance, glaring at Toby, who did his best to look bashful, and turned to face his mother.

"Mom are you sure? Are you positive he couldn't have been a–" he shrugged a shoulder, "a you know?"

She sighed. "I feel like I don't know anything anymore. Your father, he did some work for the military. He wasn't in the field or anything. He just worked on computer systems." Her eyes became distant, "Then he started leaving home for longer and longer periods of time. He said it was for work, but..." she twisted her hands in her lap "well, let's just say I had my suspicions." Her cheeks and ears glowed scarlet. "When, he stopped coming back, I just assumed that he must have ran off with whoever he was spending so much time with."

There was a clinking of glass as Stricklander emptied the shards into the garbage. "Barbara, if I may, when was it that Jim's father left?

Barbara figited. "Around ten years ago,"

A drawn look crossed Stricklander's face.

"Walter?"

"Yes?" He said it politely, his face recomposing itself.

"Walter, whatever you have to say, you better spit it out."

Stricklander looked conflicted, like he was trying to find the right words. "I knew another changeling, a member of the Janus order whose human and troll forms could be said to bear some resemblance with Jim. He went by a different name, but many of us use multiple human aliases." he smiled nervously, "But, then again, it could just be a coincidence."

Barbara rose quickly from her chair. She began searching the shelves with a purpose, throwing some books to the side. She grabbed an old photo album and rushed over to Stricklander.

"His human form. Did it look like this?" She pressed her finger to the picture, her face searching Stricklander's beseechingly."

Stricklander's eyes widened and looked up to meet hers.

The color drained from Barbara's face. "What happened to him? Where did he go? What did he do?"

"He- he was retrieving an item for the Janus order. There was a problem and-" Stricklander looked away, "He died."

Barbara closed the book. She placed it carefully back on the shelf. Her face was blank, her eyes unblinking. She left the room and slowly climbed the stairs. A door slammed, hard, and everyone downstairs flinched.

Meanwhile, Jim sat there wondering why he didn't go after her, why he didn't punch Stricklander for opening his big mouth, or slap Merlin over the head for being so inconsiderate. Wondering why he didn't grab his father's photo and tear it into tiny pieces.

Wondering why he felt nothing at all…

 **How will Barbara and Jim react to recent revelations about his father? Will Claire master her magic or will it master her? Will Merlin's tower of cookies ever fall? Tune in next time!**

 **Whew! This one was a tough one. So, much dialog! So much explaining! Why yes I will take magic and turn it into science! I actually have many more ideas for how magic can and can't work in this universe, but you'll have to learn along with Claire, because Merlin was becoming awfully long winded in the original draft. Yes, I am aware this chapter can be interpreted as having plenty of Jlair, perhaps I am more of a softy than I originally thought…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the shorter chapter. I needed to get some story stuff sorted in my head before continuing.**

* * *

 **15 Years Ago**

It was a calm night in Arcadia Oaks. The house that would later become known as the Lake's House was quiet, except for the occasional light clatter of keystrokes or the soft sound of a page being turned. Cardboard moving boxes littered the floor in various stages of being unpacked.

In one corner a woman sat on a couch, surrounded on either side by a large stack of textbooks. Her legs were spread across one of the boxes, using it as a temporary footstool. She chewed on the end of a pen as her eyes traced the text of a volume spread across her lap, pausing once in a while to make a note.

In another corner of the room was a newly constructed desk still smelling of wood shavings. It seemed to have been put to work right away. Most of its surface was already consumed by two bulky computer monitors and a mess of tangles hung underneath. A man sat in front of the screens, his long face lit in an eerie glow as line upon line of the green text flitted across the dark screens.

The couple continued on like this, their silence somehow congenial. Every once in a while the woman would stretch her shoulders and lean back on the couch, resting her eyes for a moment and enjoying the reassuring clitter-clack of the keyboard. The man would stop now and again and glance at the woman, a smile flitting across his face as he observed her push her glasses up her nose only to have them slide down again.

The quiet was broken by the sound of a small child fussing, then crying. Both the man and the woman looked up towards the ceiling, then at each other. The woman started to remove the book from her lap, but the man rose from his desk and made a motion to stop her.

"Don't get up Barbara. I'll go check on him and see what the trouble is."

Barbara yawned. "He's been sleeping through the night lately, and we didn't put him down that long ago."

The man shrugged. "It's a new house, maybe he's not yet used to it." He crossed the room and began climbing the stairs.

Barbara called after him, "After you check on him maybe you should head off to bed, James,"

James learned over the railing and smiled. "I could say the same to you."

Barbara reopened the book on her lap. "I'm not going to get a good MCAT score without some sleepless nights." She grumbled before placing the end of her already mutilated pen back in her mouth.

James climbed the remaining stairs. As he entered the darkened hallway he reached for a light switch. Nothing happened. He glanced upward towards the lamp to see an empty socket where the bulb should be. Grumbling some insult towards the previous owners he hung his head and closed his eyes. When looked up again his eyes glowed a bright gold, the pupils forming inhuman slits that contracted, then dilated. He continued forward, picking his way carefully towards the child's room. Stepping inside, he blinked rapidly a few times, his eyes returning to their previous blue. Extending a hand out, he flipped the switch on the wall and the room was filled with light.

A small child with dark hair and wide blue eyes stood inside a crib, balancing himself against the bars. His face was tear streaked and his mouth was set in a frown so serious as to be appear almost comical.

"What seems to be the problem, little troll?"

The boy made a fussing noise and reached downward, his hands clasping and unclasping into tiny fists.

James' eyes followed the child's gesturing hands to a spot under the crib where a ragged bunny toy lay dejectedly on the floor.

"Oooopsie! Opppsie!" the child pouted, his hands reaching.

James leaned down to collect the toy from the floor. He then remained below the crib. Slowly, he lifted the bunny so that its head peaked over the floor of the crib.

"Junior," James said in a high pitched voice, twisting the toy so that its arms flopped this way and that. "I seemed to have fallen from my bed! Could you please help me?"

The child gave a gleeful laugh and reached between the bars, pulling the toy into a hug. He then leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of his father.

James popped up from hiding. "Boo!" he shouted. The child sat back gigging. He squeezed the rabbit into his chest.

James knelt into hiding again. "Peeeeeek-aaaaaaaaaaaah..." he said drawing out the word. The boy hung back, a smile on his face, knowing what was coming, but seemingly filled with anticipation nonetheless.

"Boo!" James jumped up again, and the child laughed louder than before.

James crouched once more. He hung back longer this time, letting the suspense build. A curious look came into his eye, the ghost of an idea.

The child began to grow restless, fidgeting.

"Peeeeeeek-aaaaaaaaaaaah…."

There was a flash of blue light and a crackle of electricity. The boy held his rabbit a little tighter.

"Boo!"

The man popped to his feet once more, except he was no longer a man. His skin was an aquamarine, his nose pink, and his eyes glowed yellow. Two large horns curled back through a mess of dark hair.

It was quiet for a moment. The child's eyes widened, the whites showing on all sides. His little mouth hung agape. The troll shifted nervously, seemingly ussure whether or not he had made an awful mistake.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a peel of laughter. The child fell backward rolling around and giggling. Clutching his blankets, he laughed and screeched with glee, a large smile plastered on his face.

Footsteps could be heard on the stairs. The troll's eyes widened. There was another flash and a man stood in his place. The child gave another scream of delight. James placed a finger to his lips and smiled conspiratorially.

Barbara rushed into the room, camera in hand.

"Is Junior being cute? I've got the camera!" But Jim's laughter had begun to subside. A goofy grin remained on his face as he began to hiccup.

"Awwww, I missed it! What did you do to get him to laugh so hard?"

"Ah, I was just playing peek-a-boo with him. You know he loves that game. He gets a real kick out of it"

"He's never laughed like that for me before. Ugh, and I missed the perfect photoopportunity again! You'll have to do it again tomorrow. I'll have the camera ready this time."

"With all the pictures you take we'll be out of film again soon!" James laughed, "Do you really need a picture of his every move?"

"I don't take a picture of his every move." Barbara's voice took on a defensive edge. Her shoulders slumped. "I'm already so busy studying for the MCATs and my schedule will only get worse if and when I get into medical school. I just, I don't want to miss anything." She stepped towards the crib, straightening out the blankets and tucking them around the boy who was now yawning contently.

James stood next to Barbara and wrapped an arm around her. "You won't," he said kissing her on the cheek. Her face brightened a little, but a crease still hung on her brows as she watched her son's breathing relax and his eyes droop.

"C'mon," James gave her a tug. "You've been studying all night, maybe it's time we all went bed."

They walked out of the room together. Then, James broke from the embrace, leaning across the doorway to turn off the light. There was a yellow glow as his eyes flitted across the room once more time before shutting the door.

* * *

 **A slight change of pace this chapter. I'm sort of interested to know what you all think. We'll be back to the normal present timeline next chapter. There might be a slightly longer wait this time (maybe two weeks?) The visual arts is my bread and butter and there is a portfolio piece/contest that I really should be working on. I promise that I am not dead and will be back soon!**

 **What ever happened to The Hero's Forge and the souls that reside there? Is Jim's connection to the past avatars *ahem* I mean vampire hunters *ahem* I mean trollhunters still intact? What is the name of baby Jim's toy rabbit? Find out next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

… **...And I am back! After some debating, I decided to switch the tense I am writing in from past to present. I will go back and correct the other chapters to match eventually. Okay, on with the show!**

* * *

He should feel something. He had just found out that his father is dead. Why didn't he feel anything?

Jim's thoughts swirl, half-formed. He tries to grab hold of them, tries to think back, tries to remember the man that had once been his father...

 _The scuffy feeling of stubble as a kiss is planted on his cheek. A boisterous voice entering the room. Warm crab-cakes. Bike-parts strewn across the garage floor, filling his nose with their sweet and oily scent..._

 _The memory of being awoken by the sound of shouting._

" _Confidencial! Do you know what's not confidencial? The employee records! I called your office and do you know what they said? They said you no longer work for them! Haven't in_ months _! So help me James, if one more lie comes out of your mouth! Hell, I saw you pack your skis last time! I hope you had fun playing around without me on your mind! Or Jim? You don't give a shit about our son, do you?"_

" _DON'T SAY THAT! You don't understand!"_

" _-_ I _don't understand?!_ I _don't UNDERSTAND?! That's just_ rich. _That's just-"_

 _The sound of something being kicked or broken. He pulls the covers over his head and squeezes a stuffed rabbit close..._

 _It is his birthday. He has woken up early, too excited to sleep. As he makes his way down the stairs he catches his mother unaware. She sits sullenly in a chair staring out the window. As he comes closer he notices tears sliding freely down her cheeks. He is scared. Moms don't cry. Do they?_

 _When she sees him she jumps and rubs a sleeve across her face. She gives him the most unconvincing smile he's ever seen, one that turns down at the corners._

" _Honey, I didn't know you were up."_

 _He is terrified, unnerved by that terrible imitation of a smile. He grasps to make sense of it. The young child's brows furrow, he knows it has something to do with his father. He hasn't seen him in a couple weeks. But today was his birthday. His father had to come back for his birthday._

 _Hadn't he?_

" _Mom, where's Dad?"_

 _The smile falters, then breaks. A wretched sound escapes his mother's throat as she begins to sob. She scoops Jim up and holds him close. He is a bit big to be sitting on her lap, but she cradles him anyways. He can feel tears drip on his hair and wet his scalp. They tickle, but he holds still, too frightened to move._

 _After a long while his mother's breathing slows and her tears lesson. She takes a deep breath, rubs her eyes and repostions him on her lap so that they are facing each other._

" _It's just us now," She tells him. "We have to take care of each other." She strokes his hair and kisses his head._

 _Gone. Disappeared. He would hear a lot of whispered words in the coming months. Loser. Cheat. Deadbeat. Deadbeat dad._

His deadbeat dad is dead.

"Jim?" Claire's voice. It is faint, hesitant.

He catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Stricklander. The green changeling is straightening up, glancing upward towards the ceiling with worried eyes. He takes a step toward the stairs.

Jim launches over the coffee table. He is deaf to the cries from several in the room. In the blink of an eye he grabs Sticklander's arm and pins it behind his back. A light rumble rolls from his chest.

"Don't." He says it calmly, but firmly.

"I was only going to check and see if-"

"She's _my_ mother. Last thing she needs his you right now." He loosens his grip, perhaps a bit apologetically, and turns to face the changeling.

"Anymore revelations? What else do you know about my…my father." The last word comes out strange, feeling foreign on his lips.

"I'm afraid I told you all I know. Transparency wasn't exactly a company policy. I held a lower position at the time and wasn't exactly privy to the details."

Jim sighs and releases Sticklander. "Stay here" he says sternly and turns away, ascending the stairs.

His mother's door is closed, as he knew it would be. He takes a breath and raps his knuckles against it. The result is louder than he intended, the sound of marbles dropped on a wooden floor.

"Mom?"

There is no answer.

He listens carefully. He can hear soft uneven breathing on the other side.

He knocks again. "Mom? I know you're in there. C'mon! We can talk about this."

Silence. The beginnings of anger start to bubble in his stomach. Part of him wants very much to barge through the door, to rip it from is frame and hurl it across the room. He closes his eyes and swallows hard, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest, the feeling of a growl being suppressed. He closes his fists and turns his back on the door. Fine. If she doesn't want to talk to him she doesn't have to.

Jim's feet fall heavily as he makes his way back down the stairs. All eyes are on him. He takes a breath.

"Well, We have a big day ahead of us!" He says, clapping his hands together and deliberately ignoring the questions on their faces. "Anyone up for breakfast? Claire? Tobes? I can make a mean omelette."

He makes his way into the kitchen and begins fumbling through the cabinets, grabbing a mixing bowl from one shelf and a carton of eggs from the fridge. Claire and Toby saunter in after him. Claire leans back against the counter, trying to stay out of the way as Jim begins fervently whisking the eggs. Toby stands to the side, his eyes peering at Jim questioningly.

"Is everything okay Jim?" Toby says suddenly. Claire gives him a look.

"What?" Jim lifts the whisk in a shrug, splattering eggs on the floor. "Everything is fine. Totally under control. Mom just— She said she needed some time to think and not to worry."

"I think what Toby meant is, 'Are you fine?'" Claire's warm brown eyes bore into him. Blinkey's long head emerges from the doorway, peaking into the small room.

"Of, course I'm fine! -Now where is that feta." Jim sets the bowl down and sticks his head in the fridge, searching. A large hand presses reassuringly against his shoulder.

"You don't have to hide anything from us, Master Jim."

Jim straightens and looks into Blinky's six eyes, which blink back at him, their timing slightly out of sink.

He sighs. "Guys, listen. I'm fine, really. My dad and I weren't exactly close. Heck, he left so long ago I can hardly even remember him." His voice takes on a subdued tone as he continues, "It's not like much has changed anyways...My dad's been dead to me for years." He looks into Blinky's face and forces a smile. "Besides," he says, giving a meaningful look to Toby and Claire over Blinky's shoulder, "I have all the family I need right here." Blinky looks like he would blush if it were possible for him to do so. He gives Jim a clumsy pat on the shoulder before taking a step back. Jim is relieved to see that Toby and Claire look more at ease. Jim smiles at them and forces some enthusiasm into his voice.

"Now, who wants my special feta, spinach, and mushroom omelettes?"

The preparation of the meal proceeds without much incident. Merlin makes a bit of a fuss when Jim suggests that he should get dressed before receiving his meal, (The length of the robe he is currently lounging in is making them all uncomfortable) but he eventually concedes when Jim offers to fry up some bacon as part of the bargain. When all the humans had been served Jim walks to the head of the table. He stands there for a moment, placing his blue fingertips on the wood as he gathers his thoughts. Then, he begins to speak.

"I want to start the search for the new Heartstone as soon as possible. Blinky," He turns to his right where Blinky sits, closely observing the top end of a salt shaker. He straightens at the mention of his name hurriedly places it back on the table. "Can you navigate the gyre to New Jersey tonight?"

Blinky's eyebrows rise and he presses the fingers of his top two hands together, tapping them in quick succession. "Ah, yes, about that. I don't believe the gryes will be in a functional condition at the moment."

"Good." Aaaaargh grumbles from a corner. "No like Grye."

Jim's mouth opens agape. He hadn't expected cracks in his plan this early on.

"Not working? How could they not be working?"

"Why Master Jim, I assumed you knew! It's right there in-"

"-A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore." Jim chimes in pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Volume 42."

"I've been a bit busy, Blinky, you know trying to stop eternal night and all that."

"Well, had you read it you would know that the Heartstone doesn't just have healing properties-"

"-Its magical resonance is the very lifesource of Trollmarket," Claire finishes. Blinky beams at her. She continues. "Troll artifacts aren't powered by electricity, they are connected to the magic of the Heartstone. Without it…"

"Blackout." Toby finishes.

Jim closes his eyes and takes a breath. "Fine," he said. "New plan." He pauses, thinking. "Merlin," The wizard looks up, from the opposite end of the table, his mouth full of bacon. "Could you make us a portal there?"

Merlin swallows. He gazes appraisingly at Jim under half lidded eyes. "Oh sure, I'll just zapp us right over there, and while I'm at it why don't I also magically restore all the damage that has been done to the city."

"Wait! You can do that!" Toby shouts excitedly.

Merlin gives him a sidelong glare. "It appears that my use of verbal irony may still be ahead of the times." Toby stares nonplussed. Merlin rolls his eyes and continues, "The Skathe-Hrün was a very powerful instrument and even it's scope is limited. The wielder had to have an emotional anchor to the person or location on the other side. It is possible to construct a bridged gateway of sorts between two places with the right ingredients, construction, and spells, but that involves having already visited the location to make such preparations possible"

Jim flusters. "Okay, so no grye, no teleportation, we can't exactly all just hop in a car and hit the road...so…"

"Summer cross-country camping trip!" Toby bursts out, raising both hands in the air.

"C'mon Tobes, be serious."

"I am serious! Come on! School just ended, the summer is here. I've always wanted to go on a camping trip. Just me, my cronies, and the open road." He stretches an arm out, his eyes distant.

"It's actually not a completely awful idea." Claire pitches in, her voice thoughtful.

"Exactly! Wait-" Toby's face falls and he glares at Claire. "Heyyyyyy-"

"Okay, okay, let's just say for the sake of the argument we did just leave on foot and head east. How are a couple of teenagers, a wizard, two large trolls, and whatever the heck I am," he gestures down to himself, "supposed to remain undiscovered. Word may be out if Arcadia, but I doubt the rest of the world will take the existence of Trolls very well."

"We'll keep to the wilderness, travel by night." Claire says, "I've read some good survival guides."

"We have no idea how long a trip like this could take. What about school?"

"Summer vacation!" Tobey shouts.

"And if it takes longer than the summer, I have more than enough credits to graduate early and take a gap year!"

Jim observes his friends' glowing faces. He is tempted to throw all caution to the wind and fully accept their proposal right then and there. He can't though, not yet. He is bond to this duty. From the first day the amulet called to him all that might have been his future (highschool, college, perhaps even culinary school), was lost. They could still walk away at any time. It was a freedom of choice he often wished he still had. He would not deny them of it.

"Toby. Claire," he says gently, "I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do," he swallows, "but I don't want either of you to jump into a decision you will regret. This journey may be long,"

"I'm going to get so many steps in!" Toby says, glancing at his chubby-tracker.

"dark,"

"I've always loved the stars."

"and possibly dangerous."

"Well that settles it." Tobey says. "If there is danger, who is better for the job than the trusty Trollhunters!" He reaches a hand out towards the center of the table. Claire put her's on top of it. They both look towards Jim. He feels the corner of his lips tug. Relenting, he places a four fingered hand on top of the others.

"On the count of three." Tobey says, counting down. "-One- -Two- -Three-"

"Trollhunters!" Claire and Jim chime.

"Summer cross-country camping...I-mean-trollhunters!" Tobey finishes.

And there, standing amongst his friends. Jim feels lighter than he has in days.

* * *

After some more discussion Jim excuses himself and makes his way down into the basement. It had been decided that if they were to go on a long journey they should first travel to trollmarket to collect a few odd and ends. Jim had wanted to leave soon, during the day if possible. It was due to this decision that he was currently in the basement. He walks up to the heavy metal utility shelves beneath the stairs, piled with years of lost, old, and unneeded objects. Jim plants his feet firmly on the ground and pushes. The shelves slide back with less effort than he had expected, revealing a gaping hole that proceeds forward a bit before disappearing downward into an inky blackness.

The passageway had been Blinky's idea. Draal was still living in Jim's basement at the time and it was becoming harder and harder for him to come and go from the house unnoticed. Blinky, historian that he was, had been delighted to find the old blueprints of the city of Arcadia. It was with these that he had discovered the old sewer system that ran in close proximity to Jim's house. Arrrrrgh moved the heavy shelves, Draal charged the wall with a barrel roll, and in no time at all they had a troll-sized entrance leading to the sewers and the canal beyond. Move the shelves back in place and you could hardly notice the gaping hole.

Jim had offered to go down and move the shelves in preparation for the others, while they ran home to pack. Honestly, he had offered mostly to steal a few quick moments for himself. He had noticed their eyes lingering a bit too long on him when they didn't think he was looking, quickley averting when he glanced back their way. Jim wasn't sure what they were watching for. Did they expect him to suddenly have an outburst, too break into tears over a father he had never known? Or was it more simple than that? Were they just unnerved by his new form, by all the ways he was the old Jim, yet wasn't. Either way, the façade of normalcy was exhausting. He had needed the escape.

He takes a step back and stares at the hole. He had watched Draal emerge from it countless times. Looking into that gaping darkness now he almost expects a bronze hand to emerge followed by a large blue form. He would would smile wryly at Jim, as if to say, 'Did you think I could be killed that easily?'

But Draal didn't emerge. Would never emerge again. He is dead. Crumbled in pieces at the bottom of a flooded tomb.

The funny and terrible thing is that Draal was the one person (or troll) that Jim desperately wishes he could talk to right now. Before meeting Jim, Draal had been the very embodiment of what Trollmarket thought a troll should be. He was brave, strong, and true to the troll's laws and traditions. Sure, he could also be bullish, prideful, and impulsive, but within the community this wasn't necessarily seen negative. It was Jim who had introduced Draal to the more human concepts of mercy, forgiveness, and friendship. Perhaps if Draal were still around he could have instructed Jim in how to manage his new troll nature, senses that feel too intense, instincts that whisper, unheard, but not unacknowledged by a body that feels only half his own, and the anger and frustration that seems at all times to brew just below the surface.

And then there was the recent double revelation about his father. Draal, of anyone, understood what it was like to have daddy issues. He would not judge Jim if he admitted to the dark thoughts that had plagued him over the years, the times he really had wished his father was dead. During nights when he had awoken to the soft sound of his mother crying he would fervently wish for some calamity or other to befall the man. Then, on other occasions, he found himself daydreaming, lost in a fantasy in which his father, having finally remembered his son's birthday, returned. Draal would have just listened, maybe snort or nod his head stiffly now and again. He wouldn't offer solutions or badger Jim with further questions. He would just listen.

And that would have be enough.

Jim rips his eyes away from the hole, blinking rapidly. _Damn it_. He can't fall apart now. There are too many people counting on him. He turns around, but facing the rest of the room he is engulfed with more memories. Draal wielding the broomstick in the corner, displaying a proper fighting stance. Draal lumbering to the window and peering out at the darkness beyond. Draal saying he could make this place home...scattering some coals from the furnace across the floor and popping a few in his mouth.

Jim's stomach growls.

Much like sleep, Jim is not entirely sure how much nourishment he needs. He isn't even sure how much trolls need. Sure, they would down a large amount of glug or socks if prompted, but Jim had also seen quite large trolls such as Aaaargh be satisfied by comparatively small amount of nourishment. Seeing as he is some crazed wizard's dreamed up science experiment he figures it is anybody's guess.

Jim's stomach growls again. It doesn't exactly feel the same as human hunger, more of a general hollowness than the clenching muscles, but it is still unpleasant. He glances toward the stairs and listens, but doesn't hear much. Claire and Toby don't appear to be back, yet. Good. Jim is still trying to wrap his head around the weirdness of his new form. The last thing he needs is an audience.

He takes a few hesitant steps towards the furnace. He opens the grate and peers at the red embers. It doesn't look very much like food. Feeling silly, he begins to close the door, but before he does his nose catches a whiff of the coal. His head leans closer, unbidden, and he takes a deep sniff. In many ways it smells exactly how he expects it to. It smells like coal. _Coal,_ the human part of his mind wants to label it and file it away. _But wait,_ says another part. The smell is fuller than it had been in his previous life. It smells, warm, smokey, and makes his mouth water like a grilled steak. He licks his tongue across his front teeth.

His hand lurches into the furnace. _No!_ screams sixteen years of instincts-

But his hand is already in the flames.

Jim squeezes his eyes shut expecting pain, but finds none, just a warm tickle. He opens his eyes and withdraws his hand, uncurling his palm to reveal the lump of charcoal, still glowing red in places. He can feel the heat, but it is pleasant, like dipping his hands into a warm bath.

Before he can question himself further he throws the rock into his mouth. It has a smokey, but not unpleasant flavor. His teeth grind into it. It is less solid than he anticipated, porous in a way that yields a satisfying crunchiness. He is amused to find himself comparing it to dry cereal. Emboldened by his success he throws another into his mouth, then another. He munches until his stomach ceases complaining. In place of the hollowness that gnawed at him earlier, he feels a pleasant warmness, as if he had just had a warm bowl of soup.

His ears tug toward the stairs. He quickly closes the furnace.

The door at the top of the stairs opens and Claire emerges.

"Jim, do you need help moving the shelves? Blinky said...Oh, you got it" she says, her eyes glancing down at the shelf. She has a large duffle bag swung over her shoulder.

"Toby just texted. He is on his way back, so we all should be ready to go soon." She begins climbing down.

"Oh and I told my parents about our trip." She glances away from him towards the corner of the room. "They are fine totally fine it." Her voice is cheerful, but it sounds slightly off.

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow. "We are talking about your parents, right?"

Claire's eyebrows furrow and her face darkens. "They aren't as bad as you think."

"I wasn't saying they were bad" he stammers, surprised in the sudden change in tone. "I was just...surprised is all. Pleasantly surprised." He holds his hands up defensively.  
I just know how much they care for your safety"

Claires face softens and seems to recompose itself. "Well, perhaps after everything that has gone down, they have finally realized I can take care of myself."

Jim can't help but feel slightly dissatisfied by this answer. Something just feels off. Sure, Claire's parents had learned alot about their daughter and her capabilities over the past day, but for them to simply okay a trip across the country just seemed...strange. He is unsure how to react. It is with some relief that he hears the others coming and turns towards the stairs.

Toby is panting, followed by Blinky and Arrgh. He is wearing two backpacks, one on his back and the other across his front.

"I came back-" he gasps and splutters, "as quickly as possible. When I told Nana I was going on a summer camping trip she wanted me to bring some of the cats who she said needed 'fresh air'. He cups one hand to his mouth and whispers conspiratorially. "Between you and me, I don't know how many cats are left."

"Two" Arrrgh says helpfully. "Was saving for later."

Blinky emerges from behind the other two.

"Ah, Master Jim, you have succeeded in removing the shelves, excellent!"

Jim stares at the surrounding party.

"Where is Merlin?"

A look of annoyance crosses Blinky's face. "He muttered something inintelligible and then ran out. I'm sure he will be back later. Or at least I think he will." One of his hands rubs his chin. "Not that he is of much help anyways," he mutters darkly, "but it seems this is a trip we will have to perform without his *ahem* _assistance_."

Jim nods. "Okay, let's go." He turns forward, leading the others into the passage and dropping down into the hole beyond. One by one they are engulfed by darkness.

* * *

 **I would just like to remind everyone that coal is not edible. Controlled-Fall holds no responsibility should you feel the inclination to touch or eat hot embers. :D Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. Now, even though I never end up answering the questions I pose within the next chapter, (The chapters never go as far into the plot as I initially think they will) I am going to ask them anyways because I like pretending to be an old-fashioned radio host.**

 **What awaits our heroes in TrollMarket? What has become of The Forge? Will Tobey ever be unscarred from the sight of Merlin standing up a bit too quickly in his bathrobe? Find out next time!**


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